Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
Logan stood in his darkening kitchen, staring at the ruined meal. Steam still rose from the container, carrying the smell of overcooked food through the cabin. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, anger a hot knot in his chest as he looked at the waste of Mrs. Henderson's careful preparation, her yearly act of... what? Love? Pity?
Logan shoved the thought aside to focus his frustration back on Valen, who was responsible for this.
Damn alien couldn't leave anything alone. Couldn't respect a single boundary. The nectar, the attempts at getting into Logan’s head, and now this.
Through their bond, he felt echoes of Valen's hurt. Distant now, muffled, like Valen was trying to shield him from it. Good. Let him hurt. Maybe then he'd learn that actions had consequences, that you couldn't just go around intruding on people without their permission.
He should clean this mess up, but even looking at the ruined meal made his blood pressure spike. The persistent effects of the nectar weren't helping, leaving him raw and oversensitive. His skin still hummed with unwanted awareness, his body aching from hours of fighting its influence.
Valen would be fine out there. He was some advanced alien being who could turn into light. A little snow wasn't going to hurt him.
Logan dragged himself to the couch, exhaustion warring with his anger. He just needed to sit down for a moment. This day had been too much. The sexual exhaustion, the bond, and now this. Just... too much.
The couch welcomed him with familiar comfort as he sank into its worn cushions. Outside, snow continued to fall, heavy flakes drifting past the window. The bond tugged at him, a gentle pressure in his chest, pulling toward wherever Valen had gone.
Logan ignored it. Valen had made his choice. If he wanted to sulk in his ship, that was his problem.
He'd only rest for a moment. Just until this day stopped feeling like it was trying to drown him. Then he'd...
Sleep took him before he could finish the thought.
He woke to darkness and cold.
For a moment, Logan couldn't place where he was or why his neck ached so badly. Then awareness filtered in: the couch, the smell of wood, the dying fire. Outside, the storm had picked up, wind howling through the trees.
How long had he slept?
He fumbled for his phone, wincing at the bright display. 6:47 PM. Christ. He'd been out for hours.
Something pulled uncomfortably in his chest, like a muscle stretched too far. Valen was still out there, still distant. Still hurt. Logan tried to ignore that last part, but it was harder now. The anger that had sustained him earlier had drained away during his sleep, leaving him hollow.
This was what he'd wanted, wasn't it? To be left alone with his grief, his traditions, his memories of Jeff. He'd driven three hours into the wilderness specifically for this solitude. And now that he had it—now that Valen had actually given him what he'd been asking for…
The loneliness of his cabin looked sad rather than welcoming.
If Jeff could see him now, he'd tell him to get off his ass and stop moping.
What had become of him?
Something lost and pitiable.
The kind of bitter person who’d send someone else out into the snow.
Logan pushed himself up, muscles protesting. The nectar's effects had mostly faded, leaving only a bone-deep weariness in their wake. He should probably eat something. Should definitely restart the fire before the cabin got any colder.
His gaze drifted to the kitchen, where he knew the ruined meal still sat. Jeff's mom had started bringing him these Christmas dinners the year after... after. "You shouldn't be alone," she'd said. "Even if you refuse to be with us, you should have a proper Christmas dinner."
He'd never told her he couldn't bear to eat them. That they sat in his freezer until spring, when guilt finally forced him to throw them out. Easier to accept them than explain why every bite would taste like ash.
And now this year's dinner was actually ruined by someone who'd tried to take care of him, and he'd thrown a tantrum over it.
The wind rattled the windows, and Logan shivered. The temperature had dropped with the sun. How cold was it out there now? Valen had said the cold didn't affect him in his energy form, but was that true? Or was it just an impulsive statement from someone who'd been hurt and wanted to leave?
The bond twinged again. Logan pressed a hand to his chest, trying to interpret what he was feeling through it. Distance, yes. Hurt, definitely. But something else too. A sort of... resigned acceptance that made his stomach twist.
He got up and walked to the window. In the gathering dark, he could barely make out the shapes of trees thrashing in the wind. It was still snowing too.
Somewhere out there was a damaged spaceship. And Valen.
Logan's throat tightened. God, what a mess. He'd made this cabin his sanctuary, a place to hide from the world and its messy emotions. From people who could hurt him, or worse, people he could hurt. Five years of carefully constructed solitude, of Christmas traditions built around absence rather than presence.
And then Valen had crashed into his life, all tentacles and good intentions and absolute disregard for human customs. Had claimed him, tried to take care of him… even if he did it all wrong.
The ruined meal didn't matter. Not really. Logan had just needed an excuse to do what he always did: pushed away anyone who tried to get close.
Only this time, thanks to their bond, he could actually feel the consequences of that pushing.
And now Valen sat alone by his ship, probably wondering what the hell he'd done wrong, unable to understand why a simple meal had caused such pain.
Logan leaned his forehead against the cold glass. He should go after him. Should at least explain. But the words stuck in his throat even in imagination. How did you explain years of grief? Of deliberate isolation? Of Christmas dinners you couldn't eat because they tasted like memories?
The bond pulled at him again, stronger this time. Or maybe he was just finally letting himself feel it.
"Damn it." He pushed away from the window. The coat rack by the door held his heavy winter jacket. He put it on and then grabbed his boots.
He didn't let himself think too hard about what he was doing. If he thought about it, he'd talk himself out of it. He would convince himself that Valen was fine, that the cold really didn't affect him.
The blast of arctic air as he opened the door stole his breath. The storm had gotten worse, wind driving the snow nearly sideways. Logan pulled his collar up higher and stepped out onto the porch.
That tugging sensation in his chest, led him toward the woods where he'd first found Valen's ship. He followed it, pushing through snow that was already knee-deep in places. The wind cut through his jacket like it was made of paper.
He'd gone maybe fifty yards when he saw a familiar blue-purple glow through the curtain of snow. Before he could even call out, the light surged toward him, cutting through the storm like a comet.
"You shouldn't be out here!" Valen's voice came from everywhere at once, his energy form swirling around Logan in agitation. "Your body temperature is dropping!"
"I'm fine," Logan managed through chattering teeth. He hadn't realized how cold he'd gotten until Valen mentioned it. "I needed to?—"
"You need to go back inside." Valen's light pulsed with concern, casting strange shadows across the snow. "Whatever you came to say can wait."
"No." Logan wrapped his arms around himself, as much to keep Valen from trying to herd him back to the cabin as for warmth. "It can't wait. I need to apologize."
Valen's swirling slowed, his light dimming slightly. Even in this form, Logan could feel his uncertainty through their bond.
"I should have told you earlier. Should have explained instead of just..." Logan's teeth were chattering too hard to continue. The cold had worked its way into his bones, making everything feel distant and sluggish.
The light around him brightened suddenly, and warmth began seeping into his clothes, his skin. Valen's energy form pressed closer, creating a barrier between Logan and the storm.
"Tell me inside," Valen said, his voice gentler now. "Please. Let me get you warm first."
Logan wanted to argue, to get the words out now while he had the courage, but his body was already leaning into Valen's warmth. He managed a small nod.
Valen's light wrapped around him more firmly, guiding him back toward the cabin. Through their bond, Logan felt the alien's concern warring with lingering hurt, and underneath it all, a fierce protectiveness that made his throat tight.
When they entered the cabin, Valen immediately shifted back to his corporeal form, moving swiftly to the fireplace. His tentacles worked efficiently, arranging logs and stoking the dying embers back to life. Logan stood in the entryway, his fingers too numb to work the zipper of his jacket.
"Let me," Valen said, coming to help him. His touch was careful, hesitant, so different from his usual confidence. Through their bond, Logan felt him struggling with the urge to do more, to wrap Logan up completely in his warmth.
But he was respecting boundaries now. Trying to.
Logan let out a shaky breath, watching as flames began to catch on the fresh logs. "The Christmas dinner," he started, then stopped. How could he explain?
Valen's tentacles stilled on the zipper of Logan's coat.
"Jeff's mom sends them," he finally managed. "Every year since... since he died. She doesn't want me to be alone on Christmas. To not have a proper holiday meal." He swallowed hard. "I never told her I can't eat them. That they sit in the freezer until spring because even looking at them hurts too much."
Valen's expression showed understanding. "And I ruined this one."
"No." Logan ran a hand through his hair, still damp from the snow. "I mean, yes, but... that's not why I got angry. Or it is, but..." He made a frustrated sound. "I'm not explaining this right."
Valen guided him toward the couch with gentle pressure from his tentacles, pausing only to grab the thick blanket from the back of Logan's reading chair. "You're still cold," he said, his topaz eyes reflecting the firelight. "Let me help with that first."
Logan didn't resist as Valen wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. He should probably change out of his wet jeans, but the thought of moving seemed impossible right now. The fire was beginning to warm the cabin, sending shadows dancing across the walls.
"I chose to be alone," Logan said finally, staring into the flames. "After Jeff died. His mom, she... she tries so hard to keep me connected. To make sure I still have holidays, traditions, family." His voice cracked on the last word. "And I just keep pushing everything away. Everyone away."
Valen settled beside him, close enough that Logan could feel his warmth but not quite touching. A tentacle gestured toward the kitchen. "Like you pushed me away."
"Yeah." Logan's throat felt tight. "I'm good at that. Really fucking good at it." He turned to look at Valen. "But feeling you out there, through the bond... knowing exactly how much I hurt you..."
"You were protecting yourself," Valen said softly.
"I should have explained instead of exploding. Could have told you why that dinner meant something. Why Christmas is..." He trailed off, searching for words.
Valen's tentacles shifted restlessly. "On Nexa, we have ceremonies for grief. Times when the whole community shares in one person's pain. But humans..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "You carry your grief alone."
Wasn't that the truth of it? "Not all of us do that. Just me."
"I think," Valen continued, a tentacle ghosting over the blanket on Logan's shoulder, "perhaps we both need to learn. Me about human boundaries, and you about not being alone."
Logan leaned into the tentacle's touch without really meaning to. Even through the blanket, the contact sent warmth spreading through him. Or maybe that was the bond, humming contentedly now that they were close again.
"I don't know how," he admitted quietly. "To not be alone. I'm out of practice."
"Then we will practice together." Another tentacle brushed Logan's hair, still damp from the snow. "Though perhaps with less destruction of your food items."
The attempt at humor startled a laugh out of Logan. "Yeah, maybe let's skip the microwave experiments for a while." He sobered, looking toward the kitchen. "I should clean up in there."
"I will help," Valen said, starting to rise.
Logan caught one of his tentacles. "No, I... can we just stay here for a minute?" The fire's warmth was finally seeping into his bones, and the thought of moving seemed impossible. "I'm still cold."
Valen settled back immediately, his tentacles rearranging the blanket more securely around Logan. After a moment's hesitation, he carefully wrapped one appendage around Logan's shoulders.
Through their bond, Logan felt Valen's uncertainty, his desire to offer comfort. But he was afraid of overstepping again. The alien's usual confidence had been shaken by their fight, replaced with a cautious gentleness that made Logan's chest ache.
"This is okay," Logan said softly. "The touching. I know I've been sending mixed signals about it."
"You needed space," Valen said. "After the nectar…"
"Yeah, but that wasn't your fault. Not really."
Through their bond, Logan felt Valen relax slightly. The fire crackled, casting dancing shadows across the walls, and for the first time, the silence between them felt comfortable rather than strained.
This was nice.
Logan picked up the remote. "Would you like to learn more about this planet?"
"Yes." Valen sounded adorably eager.
Logan felt the corner of his mouth twitch up as he turned on the TV and found a nature documentary to watch. "This okay? It's about Earth's oceans."
The narrator had barely begun speaking when footage of an octopus appeared on screen. Logan felt a spike of curiosity through their bond.
"Logan," Valen asked, "do many humans find these creatures... attractive?"
"What? No!" Logan felt his face heat up as he realized what Valen was implying. "They're just animals. That's not…I didn't choose this because—" He broke off as he felt Valen's amusement bubbling through their connection.
"I'm just trying to understand your species' apparent fascination with tentacles," Valen said innocently, while one of his appendages deliberately tightened around Logan's waist.
"Cut it," Logan muttered, but he couldn't help smiling. It felt good to joke again, to feel the lightness in their bond after so much tension.
They settled into comfortable silence as the documentary continued, Valen occasionally commenting on the similarities and differences between Earth's ocean life and Nexa's. Logan found his eyes growing heavy, lulled by the narrator's voice and the warm security of Valen's embrace.
He didn't remember falling asleep. Just the gentle weight of Valen's tentacles, the soft glow of his skin, and the quiet certainty that, for the first time in years, he wouldn't be alone for the holidays.